


Mutiny is for Threesomes

by GoodyearTheShippyCat



Category: Starfighter (Comic)
Genre: "Particularly", Alternate Ending, Anal, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Assertive Ethos, Awkwardness, Biting, Blow Jobs, Canon Disabled Character, Come Eating, Communication, Cuddling & Snuggling, Deleted Scenes, Developing Relationship, Dirty Talk, Disability, Enthusiastic Consent, Frottage, Gratuitous Smut, Grinding, Hand Jobs, Intimacy, Kissing, Light Angst, Love Triangles, Lube, M/M, Making Out, Masturbation, Multi, Mutiny Aftermath, Nonverbal Communication, Not Canon Compliant, OT3, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Polyamory, Post-Coital Cuddling, Praxis Feels, Scars, Self-Hatred, Sharing a Bed, Smut, Threesome, Threesome - M/M/M, Triads, Using Appropriate Amounts of Lube, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:28:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26016535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoodyearTheShippyCat/pseuds/GoodyearTheShippyCat
Summary: Praxis learns many new things in the days following the mutiny. Surprisingly, the least interesting of these are the fate of the Reliant’s crew and the Sleipnir’s new course for Mars.
Relationships: Deimos & Phobos (Starfighter), Deimos/Ethos (Starfighter), Deimos/Ethos/Praxis (Starfighter), Deimos/Praxis (Starfighter), Ethos & Phobos (Starfighter), Ethos/Praxis (Starfighter)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 11
Collections: Starfighter Summer Challenge





	Mutiny is for Threesomes

**Author's Note:**

> Caibel sex montages are all well and good, but HamletMachine gave us a peek at the possible ending I was personally even more excited for on her Patreon, in the form of a gorgeous OT3 artwork featuring Praxis, Ethos, and Deimos. Of course I had to write a fic of how that beautiful scene came to be… which I eventually finished months later for the Starfighter Summer Challenge! Today’s theme is “Fluff”, and while I wouldn’t necessarily classify this story as such, I definitely picture these three having a nice fluff-filled future together after the war! This fic is really more for the week-long secondary theme of "The End", in honour of the comic ending. 
> 
> If you want to see [the piece that inspired this fic](https://www.patreon.com/posts/starfighter-5-03-34258488) for yourself (and I highly recommend it), consider supporting HamletMachine on Patreon. You can also buy the final Starfighter book when it comes out, as the illustration will be featured as one of the extras.
> 
> This fic could be read as a sequel to my earlier fic “[Mutiny is for Lovers](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21764329)”, if you like, but it also functions as a complete standalone piece.

Deimos had come to find them in the hangar, still working on ship repairs perhaps an hour after Keeler and Encke had passed through on their rounds. He’d immediately sidled up beside Ethos to whisper something in his ear.

Praxis held a wrench in his hand, but had completely forgotten what he’d meant to do with it, focus fixed on the unheard conversation a few feet away. Unsure how to feel, watching the pretty but deadly little fighter leaning so close to his navigator. Who immediately blurted out what he’d been told, of course.

“Abel sent a message from Mars?!”

 _Well, that solves that mystery,_ thought Praxis, even if the exclamation had raised more questions than it had answered.

“Deimos!” another, sharper voice rang out. It echoed slightly in the large, metal-walled space. The other half of Team Equinox strode over from where he’d been pointedly ignoring them since Keeler had interrupted the spat he and Ethos had been in the middle of. “Where have you been?” Phobos asked, accusation dripping from the words, “Ugh, you’re always so useless. You never help with repairs! I don’t know why the Alliance even bothered to give me a Fighter if I was still going to have to do _everything_ myself.”

Before anyone could answer, an announcement came over the intercom.

**_Attention. A transmission of vital importance has been received from Mars. An all-hands briefing will be held in the large auditorium at nineteen hundred hours._ **

“Come on, I need your help lifting some engine components out,” Phobos continued without missing a beat, trying to drag Deimos over to their ship, “You can’t laze around all day.”

Praxis could practically feel Ethos tense up. Just like he had earlier, when the confrontational other navigator had picked the first fight of the afternoon. He watched as Ethos stepped away and followed after them.

 _Was he always this tough?_ Praxis wondered as Ethos drew himself up to his full height and squared his shoulders.

“Hey! He’s not lazy,” said Ethos calmly, yet in a tone which conveyed his annoyance, “Deimos was the one who decrypted that transmission!”

Phobos stopped with a laugh, turning to display the disbelief on his face.

“He was busy sharing _vital_ intelligence with Lieutenant… er… _Commander_ Keeler while you were here poking at your ship and complaining all afternoon.”

“Pfft! As if a dumb fighter would be the one decrypting anything,” scoffed Phobos, “Seeing a message notification flash on the screen while hiding out avoiding work in some empty communications room is hardly what I’d call uncovering anything important. Someone would have seen it and brought it to the acting Commanders eventually.”

“But—” Ethos started a retort, fists clenched at his sides. He cut himself off at a wave of dismissal and a shrug from Deimos, who followed his own navigator over to where the _Equinox_ was waiting, engine panel open.

Ethos walked back and returned to what they’d been working on. He seethed for a bit before Praxis decided to try and engage him in conversation again.

“Forget it, that guy’s not worth the effort you put into fighting him.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” the navigator said, sounding like he might continue the thought, but the silence stretched on.

“So, uh, what else did Deimos tell you about this transmission?” Praxis tried again.

The other man’s cheery smile came back as he launched into an explanation, followed by enthusiastic conjectures over what Keeler’s plan would be, given this new information. Praxis listened while they worked a while longer.

“See you losers at the briefing!” said Phobos after both teams had finished their repairs, ditching them without a backward glance.

Rather than going with his navigator, Deimos drifted back over to the _Tiberius_. He grabbed a rag and began to help with cleaning grease from the tools before they left the hangar.

“Do you think we’ll get to leave the ship once we arrive? I’ve never actually been before!”

Praxis found himself following Ethos and Deimos down the hall from the lift on the barracks level as Ethos chattered excitedly about what they had learned of the acting-Commanders’ plan during the briefing. When they reached the room that he shared with his navigator, Praxis was slightly surprised to see Deimos follow Ethos right in through the door. He wouldn’t have expected it of the silent, standoffish fighter.

 _Maybe he’s lonely since Cain teleported back to Mars_.

Or whatever happened with that weird ship component on the _Reliant_ everyone had been talking about since the battle and ensuing mutiny. It was one of the topics that seemed to be ever present in conversation among the ship’s crew, Praxis had noticed. Alongside how Keeler and Encke were doing in their acting posts as Commanders of the ship and whether the war had truly taken a turn in humanity’s favour following the destruction of the Colteron shipyard. None of those topics seemed likely to fall out of favour, especially given the recent transmission.

“I think it’s a smart decision,” Ethos continued, “It makes sense to get as many people to testify against Cook and Bering as possible.”

_Case in point._

“Do you think we’ll all have to take the stand?”

The room felt discomfortingly full with three people in it. _That’s probably why Deimos is standing so close to Ethos again._ He squeezed past the two of them and half-leaned on the small desk crammed in the corner of the room. When his navigator finally paused his ramblings to breathe for what must be the first time since they’d left the lift, it was to beam back and forth between Praxis and their somewhat unexpected—at least from his perspective—guest, who as usual did not bother speaking. Deimos reached out a hand to pluck in curiosity at the jacket Ethos was wearing.

“O- oh! I borrowed this from Praxis, to keep the engine grease off my uniform.”

Praxis felt his cheeks heat as Deimos skewered him with a pointed glance, and felt the need to explain himself.

“I mean, that white shows every spot. And, uh, the ship’s laundry service hasn’t exactly been running efficiently since the mutiny,” he said, the words seeming to fall out of his mouth without any thought, “It really didn’t make sense for you to dirty your uniform when your other jacket still hasn’t come back yet. Hopefully they haven’t lost it.”

 _Stop babbling!_ he tried ordering himself, internally.

“Umm, I’m sure they’re just delayed. There are lots of flight suit repairs and cleanings to get through after the battle!” said Ethos, plucking at the sleeve hem.

“Much better to wear that old thing; it doesn’t even show stains,” Praxis added, needlessly.

“Yes, you were right. Oh! But I’m still filthy—”

Deimos let out a quiet, amused huff of air. Ethos blushed.

“Just, um, just let me get cleaned up. Uh, I’ll be back in a minute!”

As his navigator walked over to the tiny en suite they shared, Praxis was distracted by the sight of him shucking the jacket, exposing pale shoulders. Turning his attention back to their guest, Praxis noted that the other fighter’s gaze was set on the same target. Unease rose in his gut; the instincts the Alliance had recruited him for tingling.

The only reason they hadn’t been standing in awkward silence before was Ethos filling it with his excitement. Now they were left alone, and was like a vacuum had sucked everything out of the air save for a palpable sense of tension.

“So… are you excited to go home?” Praxis tried.

Deimos shrugged, noncommittal.

“Well, it’s pretty neat that you knew what to do when that transmission came in.”

That piercing stare again, but with a slightly different edge to it. One that made Praxis feel he was being evaluated rather than threatened.

“Did you work in a technical field? You know… before enlisting?”

Deimos shook his head, but gave no explanation. They were thankfully saved from the painful attempt to converse by Ethos’ return. His face, hands, and forearms nearly to the elbow were scrubbed shiny and slightly reddish where before they’d been smudged with dirt and grease. He’d practically gone for a dive inside the engine compartment of the _Tiberius_ earlier. Praxis was pretty sure he’d been determined to get the ship running even better than it had before that final battle. Even more so following Phobos’ ridiculous accusations.

The pale grey of his undershirt brought out the golden tones in his pale hair, even in the harsh overhead light. He carried the borrowed jacket by the collar in one hand as he walked closer, only stopping when he was standing right in front of Praxis.

“Um, normally I’d try and return it clean…” he trailed off, looking down at the grease-streaked fabric sheepishly.

“Don’t worry about it,” Praxis replied, taking the jacket from him, “I’ll just send it down to the laundry. I won’t need it until we get back to Mars, anyway.”

“Well, uh, thank you again for lending it to me,” Ethos said, cheeks going even more pink as he stood there, not stepping away. Praxis nearly dropped the jacket when his navigator leaned in and placed a small kiss directly on his lips.

_Whoa whoa whoa! What?_

“Ah! Ethos… are you sure this is okay… we, uh, have a guest right now…”

“Deimos? Oh! Don’t worry, he won’t mind.”

Praxis peered over Ethos’ shock of blond hair to see the other fighter, stone-faced as ever. But they locked eyes and Deimos’ visible eyebrow darted upward as he tilted his head ever so slightly, almost teasing.

“Uhh, okay then.”

“Oh good!” Ethos dove back in, hands up against Praxis’ chest for balance as he leaned onto his toes to bring their mouths into better alignment.

 _What is going on right now?_ Praxis wondered, marvelling a little at how assertive his navigator had turned out to be, between his forwardness here and the way he fought with Phobos in the hangar earlier.

Or maybe Ethos had always been this way, and he just wasn’t paying attention before.

He was shocked from his drifting thoughts by the feeling of another set of fingers brushing up against his forearms where they were gently cradled around Ethos’ sides, hands on the navigator’s broad back. He reflexively pulled Ethos in closer, breaking their kiss to get a look at the new threat.

Placid, pale eyes looked back.

_Oh, right. Deimos._

The smaller man had come up behind Ethos and was snaking his own arms around him, in the opposite direction. Ethos looked perfectly content between them, not nervous at all to be held between two fighters. _Better than just content,_ Praxis thought, appreciating the way his navigator was flushed and looking excited. Ethos stifled a moan as Deimos leaned in to pepper tiny kisses along the side of his neck, all the way up to his ear, mouthing around the edge of the cartilage. A far more suggestive version of the interaction they had earlier in the hangar.

 _So this explains where Ethos has been, lately._ Their room was often empty of late, so Praxis hadn’t had to avoid it like he used to… _Not that I would anymore_. It had just been too much when Ethos was first assigned to him. Seeing another navigator in his quarters. An unfamiliar one. But now that him and Ethos had finally had a few conversations, it turned out they had stuff to talk about. _And maybe stuff to more than just talk about…_

Praxis almost leaned in to kiss Ethos again, but was transfixed by the intense stare Deimos aimed at him from over one pale shoulder, even as he continued to lavish attention on Ethos’ neck and jaw. Uncertain whether it was a challenge, a warning, or an invitation, he froze, not sure what to do next.

“Praxis? Um, are you okay with this?” Ethos asked. “We can, uh, stop if you want.”

“Yes. No! I mean, yes, I’m okay with this. This is good.”

Ethos smiled, leaning in to mimic Deimos’ prior actions on Praxis’ neck, instead. The forward motion dragged Deimos closer, too. His pretty, half-hidden face was now very close.

_All I would have to do is lean down slightly…_

Their lips met. Deimos nipped; almost as sharp as the point of his knife. Praxis moaned as his back twinged in remembrance, and tried to kiss him again.

This time there were fewer teeth, and Deimos’ soft exhales seemed to convey a connection that was lacking when Praxis tried to make conversation with him. He’d almost completely lost himself to the sensation when a new one startled him.

He gasped into the shorter fighter’s mouth as Ethos shifted, bringing their lower halves closer still. The way his navigator had straddled his leg brought an unfamiliar but enticing hardness into contact with his thigh. Tensing the muscle rewarded him with a stifled moan and Ethos pulled down the neckline of his tank top to mouth at his collarbone.

The slight rocking motion brought Praxis’ answering arousal to a state of full attention. The just barely there grazing of Ethos’ hip against the front of his pants was maddening.

_Oh yes, more of this._

Parting from Deimos with no small amount of regret, he used one hand to press Ethos’ body even closer to his while the other tangled in pale curls. Bringing his navigator’s round face up from where it had been previously occupied, he sought those plush lips with fervor. Ethos nearly melted into him, or so it felt; the two of them joined in countless places, hands wandering.

It wasn’t long before their shirts were gone. Deimos had made quick work of Ethos’, barely interrupting their kisses as he removed it with practiced ease. His navigator took longer to pull off the black tank he wore, though. Fingers teasing along jumpy muscles, stroking up and down his back as he slowly pushed the fabric up in incremental stages.

 _Finally_ , Praxis couldn’t help thinking as creamy flesh met his own dusky skin, hot and eager.

But his mind couldn’t help wandering to their guest, and how nice it would be to add a third naked torso to the mix. Reaching around Ethos without separating their lips, Praxis’ hands found the slighter, tougher form of Deimos. His hands could practically encircle the slender fighter’s body—something he never would have thought of as a turn-on before, but he was suddenly very aware of just how excited it got him.

Especially as he could feel that body rolling lazily up against his navigator’s backside.

Torn between wanting to undress the other fighter and wanting to see what else he could do, his hands wandered lower. Tempted by firm obliques and the line of hipbones, he began by subtly altering the rhythm of the man’s undulations. Undressing could wait a little longer, he figured, if it meant getting to enjoy the way that change in pace modified Ethos’ movements against him. If he wasn’t so utterly captivated by the feeling of Deimos in his hands as he guided the motion of both of the other men at once, Praxis might have noticed a different feeling. Namely that of Ethos’ hands playing in his hair, and running alongside the string of his eyepatch.

His brain registered it only as the navigator attempted to remove the obstacle, the patch lifting from where it rested on his cheek.

The reaction was instantaneous. Praxis snapped back—one hand over the patch—separating their faces so violently that Ethos lost his balance and ended up sprawled against his chest. Praxis didn’t even notice the navigator’s hands fretting at his sides before backing off, apologizing profusely.

“I’m sorry! I’m so s- sorry Praxis I just thought… S- sorry, if you’re not comfortable… I just figured, it’s not the first time I’ve, ah, seen you without it…”

“I know… but Deimos hasn’t,” Praxis sighed, turning his head to the side to hide the source of the disruption. _There’s a reason I always wait until last to shower after PT, or take the corner spot._ As the initial shock ebbed away, it was replaced by a horrible, gnawing sense of shame and embarrassment. _Of course I had to go and ruin things. Fuck._

A sudden noise interrupted the downward spiral of his thoughts. Deimos had scoffed, sounding almost amused. He then proceeded to take advantage of the newfound distance between Praxis and Ethos to squeeze between them.

He didn’t even have time to react as Deimos yanked him down into a searing kiss that made him forget how horribly awkward he’d just made everything. A tongue diving into his mouth with no hint of teasing, seeming to suck the air from his lungs. Quick fingers made their way through his hair, finding the string of the patch. Deimos broke off the kiss, holding Praxis fully in the tension of the moment.

He was unable to look away as the other fighter slowly leaned in to whisper, rasping in his ear, “I don’t mind.” He heaved an involuntary cross between a sigh and a shudder as Deimos kissed his jawline, lifting the patch away from his face. The smaller man leaned back as if to survey the newly revealed terrain for a moment.

_Nobody wants to see that._

Praxis couldn’t meet his gaze the way he had only seconds before. Instead he looked over shiny black hair to see his navigator’s soft, kind expression. A different sort of kindness than usual, though; an underlying heat mixed with the usual care and concern.

Deimos, apparently undeterred, returned to leaving deep, sucking kisses down his neck. Ethos leaned in behind him and took his face in his hands again, a continued apology wordlessly tracing over the sides of his jaw and up his temples. Fingers tangling in his hair, now unobstructed, as their mouths met once more.

He could feel the growing heat of three bodies so close together, and it was starting to make him sweat. Or maybe it was the way he could feel Ethos grinding up against Deimos from behind, through the other fighter’s hands pressed against his stomach for leverage. Deimos worked lower as Ethos took a break from kissing Praxis to lavish some attention along the smaller fighter’s neck instead.

 _Now that’s a sight to remember,_ he thought, watching the two, both with their eyes momentarily closed in bliss.

“Ah!”

He nearly jumped at the sudden, whisper light touch of Deimos’ fingers grazing along the tented portion of his uniform pants. Teasing along the waistband. Popping open the button. Just barely slipping in between the fly of the outer fabric and the much thinner material of military-issue briefs. He didn’t even have time to gasp again before the hand pulled away, leaving him wanting so much more.

Deimos spun around, grabbing Ethos’ shoulders and pulling him in for a deep, lingering kiss before maneuvering the navigator to switch positions with him. The other fighter backed Ethos up against Praxis and began the same sequence of motions on him, efficiently getting into the white uniform pants as well.

“Ohhhh, Deimos! Yesss,” Ethos moaned, much less self-conscious than Praxis had been.

But then again, he seemed to be getting the deluxe experience. Deimos’ fingers weren’t just teasing; they were dragging and squeezing and giving small strokes as far as could be managed with fabric in the way. White fabric which was so fine as to be slightly see-through. Especially around the tip of Ethos’ erection where leaking precome had made a damp spot, allowing Praxis to glimpse the flushed head.

He could feel his dick twitch at the sight, pulsing up against his navigator’s still-clothed ass. A round, muscular ass, with just the right amount of give.

“Mmmm, Praxis,” Ethos drawled, squeezing the outside of his thighs and grinding down against his lap.

Taking a shallow, drawn out breath, he fought the urge to grab the other man’s hips and thrust up against him. _Better to let him lead here,_ he thought. Also, the motion would probably be rather uncomfortable given the way he was perched on the edge of the desk. It had already been digging into his backside. _No way in hell I’m moving right now, though._ He didn’t want to do anything else to mess up this unexpected situation. Instead, he watched with rapt attention as Deimos pulled Ethos’ out of his underwear then got to his knees. The petite fighter looked up from beneath dark bangs and let his small, pink tongue emerge, starting with a soft lick up the underside of the cock in front of him.

Praxis could almost feel it. Or at least, his imagination was supplying a vivid extrapolation of what that would feel like if it were his dick that was out, instead of straining at his underwear, trapped helpless beneath his navigator’s ass. Not that that was a bad place to be, either. It turned out the man he’d been sharing a room with these past few months had a rather magnificent ass. How he’d failed to notice this before was beyond his currently reduced level of brain function.

Which was dropping by the minute as Ethos wriggled and ground down against him in response to Deimos’ now enthusiastic sucking.

Ethos arched his back, craned his neck, and reached behind himself to pull Praxis into a kiss. Praxis couldn’t decide which was more overpowering: closing his eyes to just feel the sensations from his lips and his cock or keeping them open to watch Deimos pleasure his navigator. He switched back and forth as he let his hands wander along Ethos’ sides and up his chest to pass over pert nipples.

“Nnnnhhh,” Ethos moaned, dropping his head forward and breaking their progressively sloppier kisses, “Deimos, mmmhh, if you don’t stop I’m gonna, ah!”

The other fighter paid no heed to the warning; if anything he hollowed his cheeks more and bobbed his head faster.

The noises Ethos was making became even more high-pitched and desperate as he ground down against Praxis harder, ass rocking in an arrhythmic way. It was torturous in the best way, and Praxis held Ethos to his body as he kissed the crook of his neck, going as far along the tops of freckled shoulders as he could. Praxis could feel him quiver and writhe in his arms as he let out a strangled moan of pleasure.

Jealousy flared up in him; a vague sense of disappointment that _he_ wasn’t the one to make his navigator come apart like that.

Ethos stepped away from Praxis after a moment of catching his breath, tucking himself back into his underwear as he did so. Praxis would have been more disappointed by the loss of contact but Ethos took his hand, smiling back at him.

“Come on,” he said, then captured Deimos with his other arm and lead both fighters over to the bunk.

 _Still a navigator, even here._ The thought amused Praxis as he watched Ethos reel Deimos in, kissing him tenderly, tongue lapping between his lips. He slipped the jacket from the fighter’s shoulders and leaned in as he let it slide to the ground.

“Mmmm, I like it when you taste like me,” the tousle-haired man murmured into Deimos’ ear, just loud enough that Praxis could hear.

_Wow. That I did not expect._

Deimos must have been less surprised by the sudden lewdness of the comment, because his expression softened. It was the only thing that had, though, as Praxis could clearly see when his navigator got Deimos’ pants open and started jerking him off. The fighter leaned into Ethos’ shoulder, biting the meaty part of his own hand as if to stifle any sound.

Deciding to make himself useful while the other two were distracted, Praxis grabbed his thin mattress from the lower bunk and tossed it onto the ground. Then second guessed himself. _I hope that wasn’t too presumptuous_ , he fretted internally. It had just seemed the logical thing to do. There was more room for three people to maneuver in the open space of the room than confined to one of the tiny single bunks. _And if anyone is going to bump their head attempting that, it’ll be me_.

“Oh, good idea! Thanks, Praxis,” said Ethos, putting action behind his statement of appreciation by cupping him through the dark fabric of his underwear, where it was still exposed by pants that had never been done up again.

“Ahhh!”

“Does that feel good?” his navigator asked in a tone Praxis had never heard from him before; deeper and breathier all at once.

Praxis bit his lip and nodded, wanting to ask for more but not wanting to beg. He didn’t need to; Ethos quickly slipped a hand beneath the elastic waistband and took hold of his cock. He couldn’t help gasping, finally being touched again. Praxis watched as Ethos multitasked—both hands going at once.

It didn’t last nearly as long as he would have liked. Ethos let go, leaving both fighters hanging out of their briefs as he resumed undressing Deimos, who was the last one to start losing clothing. Once Deimos was shirtless as well, he walked over to sit on the mattress. Ethos followed him down, planting a few clumsy kisses on the smaller fighter’s face as he worked to yank his pants down.

Praxis hovered awkwardly, behind and to his good side of the two men on the floor, watching Ethos start to go down on Deimos. Pale, loose curls contrasted in a pretty way against darker colonial skin, bobbing with the motion of Ethos’ head.

He had only just made the decision to take himself in hand—giving a few firm strokes to his desperately hard cock—before Ethos interrupted.

“Uh, Praxis, would you mind fetching the lube from the top drawer?”

He fought a blush at the intimacy of rifling through his navigator’s drawer to find a half-empty bottle. Bringing it over, he noticed that Ethos had shucked his own pants, now, and was already showing signs of recovery from his earlier orgasm. From this new angle, Praxis could better appreciate the dimensions of the other man’s erection. Not particularly long but quite thick, especially toward the base, and with what looked like a slight upward curve. It made him want to try what Deimos had just finished doing. Quite a lot.

Especially when Ethos smiled up at him, flushed and soft-eyed, saying “Thank you.” Their fingers brushed as the blond man took the bottle from his hands.

Then it was Praxis’ turn to flush, watching as Ethos coated those same fingers in a slick of the offering he’d been brought. Glistening as they circled Deimos’ entrance then slowly began to make their way inside.

_Oh fuck._

Praxis returned to stroking himself with renewed enthusiasm as he watched Ethos take Deimos apart expertly using just one hand. Deimos actually let out a few small noises, quivering beneath Ethos’ ministrations. The navigator’s other fingers simply played along the sharp lines of the fighter beneath him, occasionally pausing to warmly cup a hip or squeeze the slight curve of a buttock.

 _They’ve definitely done this before,_ Praxis thought, observing the comfortable way they moved against each other. Deimos shuddered in pleasure as Ethos finally began pushing inside him with a hastily slicked erection, urged on by the legs wrapped around him. Praxis felt the echo of a shiver climb his own spine just watching, matching the speed of his strokes to the tempo set by his navigator’s sure, rhythmic motions. _Yup, probably a lot. Maybe even before the mutiny?_ It felt a bit strange to be standing there leering and getting himself off to such an intimate, personal scene.

“Are you just going to watch?” Ethos asked, startling him from his guilty thoughts, “Or, um… would you like to come over here?”

“Uhh—”

“You can stay over there if you’re more comfortable, o- of course,” the other man quickly added.

“No! No, uh, if it’s okay…”

“Yeah, come here.”

Praxis didn’t need to be told twice. The look Ethos gave him was more than enough beckoning and he followed the order implicitly. _Order? Huh. Not gonna unpack that right now._

All other thoughts were quickly jettisoned to the swirling outer eddies of his mind once he got within range of the two men on the mattress. Ethos immediately pulled him closer by one hip and only gave the most cursory glance upward to check for assent before hot lips were wrapping around him. An even hotter, wetter tongue joined them and Praxis couldn’t help but groan at the sensation of being swallowed down.

After a few moments of singular focus on the sensation, his tunnel vision cleared and he started to notice everything else outside of and around the mouth currently doing its best to distract him. The halo of messy, vaguely curly hair was particularly tempting. He just wanted to dig his fingers into it. But that seemed too forward. Or rude. Or, something… for this point in time. But his traitorous brain wouldn’t let up, all sorts of dirty thoughts about Ethos appearing seemingly from nowhere. Praxis wondered how on Mars he’d never thought anything like this before on any of the countless occasions the two of them had been alone in the same room together. Often in some state of undress.

_Carefully ignoring each other._

A pang of guilt struck him like a shot from a Colteron fighter ship. He really didn’t even deserve to be here, imposing on these two. And yet—

 _Ethos clearly wanted me here._ It didn’t make any sense whatsoever, but his navigator had been so unbelievably patient with him. So patient, open, and forgiving.

Finally, Praxis let one hand come up from where they were balled into fists at his side. Consciously relaxing it, he let it run through the pale mop of hair bobbing in front of him, reverent. _Grateful_. He was treated to a content hum which vibrated along his length, making him bite back a gasp. His fingers caught on tangles in a few places and he shifted to avoid pulling at Ethos’ hair, just letting his hand coast over the waves and crests of it.

He didn’t dare grip, because the angle was already awkward enough for Ethos, who was still slowly thrusting into Deimos. His upper body’s movement decoupled somewhat from the lower; motion isolated at the waist and shoulders.

Praxis looked over to Deimos, who met his gaze with another vaguely amused one. Which even broke into a bit of a smirk when Ethos pulled off, the cool air of the room shocking in contrast.

“Could you just— yeah, like that. Perfect.”

Ethos had repositioned Deimos onto his hands and knees, pushing back inside him and beginning to pound into him more rapidly. The smaller fighter’s expression cracked a little more, mouth forming a small ‘o’ momentarily, before returning to something closer to the calm amusement. This time that amused look was accompanied by a slight toss of his head, motioning for Praxis to come around.

Stepping from where he stood next to Ethos, he hesitated only a moment before kneeling in front of Deimos. Cain wasn’t here any more, and the knives Deimos carried were nowhere to be seen. A sensation Praxis couldn’t be sure of flitted through his mind, gone before he could grasp what it had meant.

_Oh. Ohhhh. Who even cares?_

Another warm, inviting mouth was closing around him now, and he let thoughts of past interactions fall by the wayside.

“Ahh, Deimos, that’s… that feels so good.”

The look Deimos aimed up at him was unsettling; like he was about to devour him. _But that’s kind of sexy._ Praxis marvelled at the fact that he was getting to enjoy two wildly different kinds of beauty, doing the same thing in two very different—but both excellent—ways. One soft and languid, the other hungry and efficient.

Praxis brushed the hair off of the other man’s face, thinking it might make it easier on him, but also wanting to see both of his beautiful blue-grey eyes. Startled, he pulled his hand away without thinking.

_That scar…_

Deimos averted his eyes, tilting to let the hair fall back over his forehead where Praxis had brushed it away. He didn’t stop what he was doing; if anything, doubling down on his efforts. But the tenuous connection they’d been building was severed. Praxis could feel the sudden shift as if it were a separate presence in the room with them.

 _Dammit, why am I always such an idiot?_ He berated himself internally. _Deimos didn’t even flinch seeing me without the patch._

He shot a quick look at Ethos to see if he’d noticed the sudden chill in the air, but the navigator seemed very focused on his task. His hips made slow circles as he leaned over to press kisses along Deimos’ spine.

Praxis took a much needed breath, not realizing he’d been holding one. He reached out again, determined not to make even more of an ass of himself. As his fingers made their way through strands of inky black hair, they revealed the scar on Deimos’ forehead again. The white, long-healed line lead down to just intersect with his left eyebrow, cutting a small wedge out of it, normally hidden by the other man’s hairstyle. _I wonder if that’s why he wears it over his face like that._ Praxis let his thumb travel along the length of the scar, fingers cupping the side of the other man’s head. Then stroking through his hair a few more times, pushing it back far enough to make it stay in place before traveling down his jaw line.

Deimos slowed his relentless pace, finally meeting Praxis’ gaze again. The other fighter raised his unscarred eyebrow a fraction of an inch while looking up at him, cock almost all the way down his throat. The sight was utterly stunning, and Praxis might have come right then and there if his mind wasn’t partly distracted by wondering about the scar.

 _It doesn’t look like the ones Cain bit into his navigators,_ he thought, briefly musing that Deimos probably wouldn’t have hidden it if that were the case. _That’s not fair,_ Praxis chided himself, trying to forget about Cain for the second time that evening.

Whatever had given it to him must have been painful. The line of white scar tissue wasn’t wide, but looks like it was cut deep. If it had gone a little lower, Deimos and him might have made a matching set.

“Nnnh, Deimos,” he panted, starting to get close, “Give- give me a minute.” He caressed the other fighter’s jaw and shifted back onto his heels, gasping as they parted.

Bending low at the waist, Praxis captured Deimos’ chin in both hands, tilting his head up so they could get the right angle for a kiss. Hungry lips met his own, sucking the lower one into that glorious mouth. They stayed like that long enough that his back began to complain, but it was worth it to hear every sound that came from the normally mute man’s throat. Scratchy rumbles, little whimpers, and breathless gasps filled Praxis’ ears, getting lost between their kisses as Ethos continued thrusting into the other fighter.

When their lips finally parted, Deimos practically collapsed into the mattress with a low, raspy moan.

“Praxis, come here?” Ethos called, still pumping away, a light sheen of sweat making his pale skin glow.

 _His stamina is ridiculous,_ Praxis couldn’t help thinking as he shifted closer. He watched as Ethos dribbled more lube over his fingers, then, holding Deimos’ hip with his clean hand, brought the slicked one around behind himself. _Oh, oh wow._

“Praxis, please… would you?” his navigator asked, desperation evident in his voice.

Even with the nice interlude he’d spent just making out with Deimos, Praxis could tell he was already reaching the point of overstimulation. _Shit, I’m not gonna last._ He could barely get the lube on his cock, hands shaking in anticipation. Most of it just ended up smeared in the valley between Ethos’ ass cheeks. He pulled their bodies together and let the movement of Ethos’ hips slide against his length, not even bothering to try and push his way in. Every one of his nerve endings seemed to light up as Ethos continued to fuck Deimos, rocking back against him in turn.

“Ahh- nnnnh! Ethos… Ethos I can’t, it- it’s too, ah! Too much.”

“It’s okay,” came the huffed response, “Like this is, nghhh… is good”

Leaning into it, plastering himself against his navigator and feeling his cock slide between two plush globes of muscle, Praxis felt like he could lose his mind. But something, somewhere in his brain—probably some deep-seated expectation drilled in as he grew up—was telling him not to be a bad host. He reached around both their bodies to take Deimos in hand, not wanting to neglect the other fighter.

Deimos let out a keening mewl. Less than a minute later Praxis could feel him pulsing hot into his hand. Ethos slowed his thrusts, much to Praxis’ momentary frustration, and pulled out gently. Deimos collapsed in a sated heap to the mattress.

“E- Ethos, please, I’m so close.”

Praxis felt Ethos press back against him again, wriggling his butt a little as he did so. Even that was enough to make him groan in torturous pleasure. The sensation so distracting he barely felt Ethos grab his wrist, pulling his hand up. He could only really see the profile view of his navigator greedily licking Deimos’ release from his fingers, but it had to be one of the most lewd things he’d ever witnessed. And one of the hottest.

“Nnnhhh…”

_Oh fuck._

Steading himself back on his heels, Praxis kept their bodies together with his other arm pinned up against Ethos’ stomach. He took over the motion for them, rocking his hips and grinding up against the shorter man.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh! Ohhhhh!”

“Yesss, mmmnnnhhh!”

Once Ethos had finished cleaning his fingers, he watched _and_ felt him get them nice and wet. Taking three in his mouth at once. Then adding a fourth and finishing with the thumb before guiding Praxis to clasp him. It was too much. His navigator rock solid and twitching in his grip, ass cheeks clenching slightly, too.

Praxis groaned out loud, feeling the spatter of his climax between them, making things even more sticky-slick as he rocked his hips through the aftershocks.

Ethos was making the most fantastic, needy noises—clearly close again, as well. As much as he wanted to collapse next to Deimos, Praxis redoubled his effort with his other hand. He tugged hard and fast until he felt the man reach his second orgasm of the night, a choked “Praaaxissss!” emitted as he came.

As his knees splayed out to either side on the mattress and Ethos slumped back against him, panting, he felt a swell of pride. He had gotten to make his navigator fall apart after all.

_Maybe he’ll let me do it again sometime, too._

Convinced that Ethos was in a stable enough position, Praxis untwined the arm from around his waist, using it to push sweat-soaked bangs off his forehead. Looking up he saw Deimos, now recovered, lounging on the mattress and watching them. Praxis was once again reminded of the way a predator would size up its prey, and was glad that Deimos appeared to be content for now.

Carefully depositing his nearly boneless navigator onto the mattress, Praxis suppressed a grunt as he stood. His leg muscles were going to kill him tomorrow.

 _Worth it,_ he thought as he walked over to the head and cleaned up the mess that was smeared all across his stomach. _So, so worth it._ Quickly grabbing two washcloths and wetting them in the sink, he returned to where the others were still lying sprawled on the thin mattress.

Deimos had curled around Ethos in a distinctly possessive way, propped up on one elbow with the other arm wrapped around a pale waist. His uppermost leg was also draped across the navigator’s, and Ethos’ hand rested on one knobby knee.

Trying to squash the feeling that he was intruding on a private moment again, Praxis walked to Ethos’ unoccupied side and held up the washcloths as an offering. Deimos’ visible eye flicked up to him briefly before returning to where it had been gazing softly at Ethos’ face. A peaceful, contented face which slowly broke into a satisfied smile when the blond turned his head to look up.

“Mmm, thank you Praxis,” he said, reaching one arm out languidly to take one of the cloths. Which Deimos immediately took from him, cleaning them both up in turn. “Would you get my back?”

His navigator rolled into Deimos even more, giving Praxis access to wipe down the mess he had made only a short time ago. Once he had wiped away the worst of the evidence, Praxis shifted down the mattress a little and tried to get comfy on the sliver of it that was left. _They’re both smaller than me, how are they taking up all this space?_ He ended up on his side, threading his left arm under his navigator’s neck and the space between Deimos’ half-propped up body and the mattress. Ethos rolled onto his back again, tilting his head towards where Praxis had laid his own down.

Pale curls tickled his nostrils with the sudden movement, but then came the soft bump of a round nose against his own, and an even softer press of lips.

“That was nice,” Ethos murmured, gaze as indulgent and warm as his mouth had been.

Praxis felt almost choked up, and could only nod in response.

“Yeah,” he managed after a moment, burying his nose into tousled hair again. “Yeah, it was.”

He hesitated, then brought his free arm up to rest across the other man’s chest, fingers circling one solid shoulder. Deimos didn’t immediately slap his hand away, so he figured it must be okay. _Either that or I’m going to get stabbed in my sleep._ When he felt Ethos’ fingers clasp around his bicep, he had to fight a shudder, turning it into a deep, full-body sigh of what he hoped sounded like contentment. _If Deimos wants to stab me, I’ll at least die happy._

Ethos didn’t speak again, which seemed slightly uncharacteristic for his nervous-talker of a navigator. When Praxis tilted his head up a bit to steal another glance at him, all he saw was quiet bliss. The blond man looked beatific, blue eyes staring into the distance and a serene expression on his face, like some figure out of ancient religious art.

He could feel Deimos staring at him as he let the scarred side of his face sink back into the slightly lumpy mattress.

 _Did he choose that side of the mattress on purpose?_ his mind wandered as felt himself begin to drift off. _Or was it just a convenient coincidence?_

Either way, he appreciated the ability to see, even if only for a short while before he let his good eye droop shut. After a few long blinks, the last image imprinted on his vision was that of Ethos’ peaceful face beside his own, and Deimos’ ever-watchful one just a few inches beyond that. Having another fighter there also watching out for Ethos was strangely comforting. He felt… safe. He never would have guessed that Deimos would make him feel like that, but then again, so many of his assumptions had been upended over the past few days.

And one more was, as he felt strong, slender fingers brush through his hair, reaching around from above where Ethos’ head lay on the mattress to tuck some of the loose strands behind his ear.

END

**Author's Note:**

> Come scream about these three with me over on [my tumblr](https://goodyeartheshippycat.tumblr.com/). Anons and shitposts welcome.


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